iLive with the Bensons
by twi1ight2019
Summary: Carly is forced to move in with the Bensons when Spencer gets sick because Mrs. Benson is convinced Carly can’t take care of herself. Things get difficult when Mrs. Benson cancells iCarly. Read and Review. SEDDIE.
1. iDon't like how some people think

**iLive with the Bensons **

**Carly is forced to move in with the Bensons when Spencer gets sick because Mrs. Benson is convinced Carly can't take care of herself. Read and Review.**

**Chapter One: iofficially hate Freddie's mom**

"Hi, Spencer," I said as I walked up to his bed in the hospital. What was I supposed to say? "I hope you don't die or anything because it's Christmas?" His eyes were closed and I heard voices from behind the curtain on the other side of the room because Spencer had to share a room.

"Hi," said a nurse from behind a curtain. "Visiting hours ended ten minutes ago." Her brown hair fell over her eyes as she continued talking to the other patient, who had "a severe gunshot wound".

"I know, I just missed the bus from my house—" I tried to say, because it HAD been really hard for me to get there on time. But she was already gone to the other side ... of the curtain. The dark side.

Her head peeked from behind the curtain. She had heard me. "Visiting hours are over. You have to leave," said the nurse. Didn't she have better things to do than bother me? I wasn't bothering anyone, except maybe Spencer, but he wasn't saying anything.

"So soon—" I began, but the nurse pushed me out of the room while she said to Spencer sweetly,

"Is there anything else you need me to take care of?" "That is my sister you were talking to!" I wanted to hear, but instead I heard a faint, muffled,

"Go away."

"Hi, Carly," said Sam as she walked through my door. "Got any ham?" She twirled her blonde hair on her finger as she walked. She had price tags on her shirt—her mother must have gotten a new bikini.

Everyone knows how she tries it on for a while before deciding whether or not to take it back to the store.

"No ham. I haven't gone shopping," I said. I wasn't her personal catering service. "New bikini?"

"Yeah. Aren't you going to ask??" asked Sam as she opened my refrigerator and pulled some celery (that was supposed to be used for Spencer's sculpture). But that sculpture wasn't going to take its form by itself in my fridge.

"Ask what?" I was so out of it today because of that stupid, ugly nurse that ruined my whole day.

"'Sam, what are you doing at my house on Christmas?' Maybe??" said Sam. "Hey, where's Freddie?" Why did she care—she hated him, didn't she?

"He has to be with Mrs. Benson on Christm—" I began, but Sam cut me off. Mrs. Benson with presents—a scary thought. _Note to self: Freddie had a bad day, too._

"Great! So, what, we have the place ... to ourselves??" says Sam, a huge smile exploding across her face. Trust me, when Sam smiles, it is NOT good (ever).

"Yeah, but my brother is trusting me—" I began to get the words out of my mouth. Spencer always trusted me—why would that fact mean crap to Sam?

"Oh, come on, Carly. We're just going up to the studio to come up with one more idea."

"For what?"

"Our show—you know." Where was my head today??

There was a knock on the door.

I got up from the couch and ran to answer it—could it be Spencer back already??

No. It was Freddie. "Hey." He sounded happy enough. Maybe he was used to having Christmas with his mom.

"Hey," I said. "What?"

"What?"

"What _is it_?" said Sam. She got up from the couch to get a banana. "Okay."

"My mom says—" began Freddie before my door opened (without a knock!).

"CARLY!" said Mrs. Benson, who had recently appeared before me. "I can't believe it that Spencer left you here all alone ... you just MUST stay with me while he gets better ... Freddie told me ... I just don't know what to _do_...."

"It's okay, Mrs. Benson."

"Oh!" she said. "I have the perfect idea. Carly—why don't you stay at hour house?"

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	2. iDon't like it this way

**I'm sorry this chapter is really short, but it's CHRISTMAS, ppl**

**Chapter Two: iDon't like it this way**

"It's okay, I can carry my own luggage," I said. _Yeah, _I said. _I can carry my own luggage to my own personal corner of HELL. _So it was officially the last day of my life. It's the last day of _anyone_'s life if they have to move in with Freddie's mom. The fact that I was moving across the hall was stupid and pointless.

I did NOT want this to happen, but when Mrs. Benson went to the hospital to have Spencer make me move in with them, he just said, "Sure. Go away." She took that as a yes—and, according to the law, Spencer is my guardian. I was FORCED to move here.

sob

"I'm sure you can, sweetie," said Mrs. Benson, and I almost THREW UP. Her sickly sweet voice sounded like medicine for a cold—but it had the opposite effect, I think I actually got _sick_.

Is this a summary of my time with the Bensons?? I really hope not—because if it is, Freddie's going to be really upset when I change my name and move to Rio.

Okay, Carly, calm _down_. Everything's all right, even if you don't think so.

You're not going to Rio de Janeiro anytime soon, or that's what Mrs. Benson thinks.

I opened the door to Freddie's apartment. It's an exact copy of mine, but....

Oh my god!!!

Inside the apartment where my couch would have been was a _giant first aid kit_. It was like the one Mrs. Benson brought in when I got a cold three weeks ago ... but here it seemed bigger, no matter how much more it fit into her apartment than into mine.

There were two seats next to _it_ and a table with at least eleven different disinfectants. ELEVEN. Where I had my computer back at home had a crappy computer—but it had stickers on it saying:

Play cyber safe!

Watch what you're typing!

Mommy is watching you!

And, my favorite, The Internet will rot your brains!!

And, and—Freddie has a laptop.

"So," I said, about an hour after I'd first seen their weird house, "Can I go home now?"

"Don't be silly," said Mrs. Benson. "You haven't seen Freddie's room yet."

That was weird. "Why would I want to see Freddie's room, Mrs. Benson?"

"Because that's where _you'll_ be sleeping." What?! I did NOT sign up to _sleep in Freddie's room. _Do you know how LOUDLY he snores (Sam's project, not mine)????

"Where's Freddie sleeping?"

"His room, sweetheart. You know we don't have a guestroom."

WHAT!?

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	3. iHate Mrs Benson's Cooking

**Also, this chapter will be longer because I am really bored and have nothing else to do. **

**Chapter Three: iHate Mrs. Benson's cooking**

"Good morning, Carly," said Mrs. Benson. "We're having waffles and bacon." Great!! I didn't have to make my own breakfast. That almost made up for sleeping in the same room as Freddie (Sam was right, Freddie snores).

Freddie said he would be gone all day.

Sam said she would be gone all day.

Carly was stuck here in hell with Mrs. Benson all day.

Sounds like fun, right?? No.

"Thanks," I mumbled. Mrs. Benson handed me a waffle and two strips of bacon. I poured my own syrup over them both and took a bite.

Gross. Was that really a waffle?? I don't think so. I tried to keep a straight face. I thought I did really well.

"You don't like it?" said Mrs. Benson. "They're _protein_ waffles, Carly. And the bacon—it's not from a pig."

"A turkey?" I asked, all very calm and innocent.

"No," she said, in an almost understanding tone. WAIT!! I was talking about _Mrs. Benson_, annoying extraordinaire. She is the woman who fails to notice anything and hates my brother with all her body.

***

I opened my locker and groaned because it was Monday. Neither Freddie nor Sam was here yet, and Freddie was never late. And, because of Mrs. Benson, neither was I.

Suddenly Freddie was looming over me, with his arm around Sam's freaking _shoulder_. Holy. Crap.

"Hi, Carly," he said. There was one plus to this—now Freddie wouldn't annoy me about him and I (which was never going to happen anyway, after all).

"Hey," I replied quickly and happily because, like I already said, this was GREAT.

"So," he said, "did you see me this morning?" I had not—but I wasn't ready to admit to that.

"No," I answered truthfully, "but I had some whole-grain whole-wheat cereal at four in the morning."

"Tired of ... my mother's cooking?" asked Freddie. Right on!! Did _he _like his mother's cooking??

"Whatever," said Sam, acting like her usual self, acting like Freddie's arm wasn't around her shoulder (which it totally was!)!

I'd been living with the Bensons for a week—and already I wanted to break Freddie's neck (and his Mother's!).

I really, really need a boyfriend (don't you think?).

"So," said Freddie. "Sam, do you want me to get that book?"

"Yeah, Freddie," said Sam. "Thanks." And that's when I knew they were "together", because Sam does NOT say thanks, unless it's to me (or my brother, and that's only because he's my brother).

And before they left Freddie asked me again, "Tired of my mother's cooking, Carly?"

I looked him in the eye and lied, "Of course not."

What kind of person lies to one of their best friends the day after Christmas break is over?? Carly Shay, that's who.

***

I was back with Spencer, in his room, looking into his dead eyes.

No, my brother wasn't dead—he just almost was. The doctors weren't sure Spencer was going to make it.

If it had been two weeks ago Freddie and Sam would've been here, yelling at each other and competing for my attention. But things had changed since two weeks ago, and now my friends were at the movie theatre watching _Maybe I Think You're Ugly_. No, I wasn't invited. Did I want to be invited? Some small part of me wanted to be there, watching over them ... being able to remind Sam of her "Freddie days" when we were older. Then some part of me knew it was best for Freddie and Sam to be alone without me there, and it was for the best. I knew that if Sam was going to even _touch_ Freddie, I couldn't be within fifty feet.

I was in safe territory, here at the hospital with my dying brother.

"Is there any information from the doctors yet?" I asked the nurse because it was a different one than the cruel one.

"Don't know, don't care," said the nurse under her breath as she walked away from me, a mere teenager with her brother.

Everything was wrong.

a) Spencer was supposed to be here, taking care of me and building sculptures that catch on fire. Spencer was supposed to be here in two weeks when my other older brother, Daniel, came. In two weeks he wasn't supposed to be d—No, Spencer was going to live.

b) Sam was with Freddie, and they were out and not here with me or with the definitely alive and well Spencer.

c) Freddie wasn't going absolutely nuts because I was in his house sleeping in the bed _next_ to him. How did Mrs. Benson allow it, the overprotective freak?

And lastly, d) I wasn't supposed to be in Freddie's house. Period.

When would things be right again?

I kind of wanted my best friends back at least moderately soon.

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	4. iAm Officially Scared

**A new chapter because I got some actual reviews!! **

**To answer someone's question: yeah, his mom probably would make him take medicine for that. **

"So," said Sam the next day at school. "You've been acting weirdly." She pushed her locker closed. This wasn't like her at all—she was acting too normal and caring. Sam isn't exactly normal.

"Living with _them_ has altered me," I replied, pretending not to notice her weirdness.

"How was the movie?" I asked, but only because it sounded normal.

"Bad—" she started. Then a lot of very confusing things happened very fast.

1st, Mrs. Briggs walked down the staircase loudly, yelling at kids (well, that was normal).

2nd, a bunch of kids began looking through windows and gasping our yelling to each other.

3rd, Freddie walked in. At first I just wondered why he was so late because he'd left at about the same time I had. He'd been acting strange and didn't eat any of that creepy bacon, so Mrs. Benson was like, "Freddie what's wrong?" "Carly did you do _anything_?" "You better hope it wasn't you, Ms. Shay!"

When he walked in he threw his backpack at the floor and glared at me. What had I done?

Now a bunch of kids were staring, and I do NOT like being in a scene! "Carly Shay, _what_ are you looking at?" asked Freddie in a very annoyed tone.

"N-nothing," I said, and I don't usually stutter at all. I am not a nervous person and it is just utterly stupid to be afraid of Freddie.

"Do I have any broken pieces of blue vase on me, by any chance?" said Freddie mockingly. "Maybe with reddish-gold specks? One that stood in the first-aid-kit room last night, Carly?"

What was he talking about?

"She doesn't know what you're talking about," said Sam. "Just lay off; Freddie, I can tell she did nothing."

He walked away, spitting at the floor. He mumbled something so low no one could understand it, and as quickly as it had started it ended. I've never seen Freddie just back off like that—he must really, really, like Sam.

How would I know, anyway? Has Freddie _ever_ been mad at me for even a day? A minute?

No. That's exactly it.

***

"So," said my Math teacher, "I hope you had a good Christmas break. Don't forget we're in the middle of a trimester, though." He swept his hand over to the board (he doubled as the Drama guy). "Let's look at our homework!"

I saw Sam scan her eyes over to where he had written the homework, her eyes quickly looking it over before deciding she didn't feel like doing any of it. But she wrote it all down anyway—like she actually meant to do it! Had anyone ever seen Sam do any homework before now? Being with Freddie had definitely made her different.

"So," he said. We have a quiz on Wednesday and a project due on Friday."

Then he sat down at his desk and pointed to the door. "Leave."

***

I sat next to Spencer. His heart was racing, but his hand was cold. "Don't worry," said the doctors. "I know what I'm doing, I went to medical school." The fact that they said that made me even surer that they hadn't....

There was only a nurse in the room right then. I could have gone home right then—but I didn't want to go see the Bensons. I didn't want to know about the broken blue vase with gold specks (I actually remembered it now, though).

"We have to take him into the OR soon," said the nurse. "Dr. Zee says you can go with him—but not for long. It's an employees only area." I nodded before answering, glad that the rooms nearby where empty, while upset because I needed some distraction from the irritating nurse.

"Oh," I said as I faintly heard my name being called down the hall. I didn't know anyone here, so there was no reason for anyone to be calling for me except for my brother, Daniel—but he wasn't coming for another three days.

I'd tried to contact him—but when you're in the Alaskan wilderness it's kind of hard to get to him. How totally unhelpful it was that my brother was into dogsled racing. 

"Wow," said the nurse. "Dr. Zee said he probably wouldn't brief you. Well, come on." She was suddenly excited, like she was expecting something from this Dr. Zee guy.

She walked me down the hallway from Spencer's room to the reception-ish desk where a man in scrubs was standing. She had a bounce in her step and a singsong-y voice as she introduced me to the odd Dr. Zee. "Carly Shay," said the man. "The only relative of Spencer Shay nearby."

"Yes," I gulped, trying to sound cheery. "That's me."

"Well," said Dr. Zee. "I have something to tell you.

"You're brother probably won't survive this operation."

**I will not update again until I have 14 reviews!! If I get over 14 in three days I will update two chapters. **


	5. iHope he isn't dead

**Well, that took longer than it would have to take to get two chapters—so here's one chapter. **

**Anyway ... I forgot what I was going to type.**

What was he talking about?

Algebra, Carly, algebra, he was talking about algebra.

What else could he be talking about?? This _was_ Algebra II. What did I think I was learning—geometry? Fractions?

I focused my eyes on the board, pretending that everything else was nothing, just the ashes of what used to be. The fire had burned—I think it was called _Maybe I think You're Ugly_—and now it sat at the back of the room between to people.

My best friends were sitting at the back of the room, holding hands and whispering. I'd never seen Sam even touch anyone—unless the gesture caused pain—in my entire life.

The fact that Sam and Freddie were sitting across the room from me should mean _something_. It does mean something—something that I can't figure out, even if I want to or try.

"So," said Freddie, without raising his hand. This was completely uncalled for (for Freddie's standards). "X=3, right?"

"Yes, Freddie," said Mr. Cray.

"Then the answer is 12, 842.103," said Sam. She hadn't raised her hand, either—but that wasn't surprising. What she said was.

What?!

***

I pulled the towel tightly around my shoulders as I began to exit the bathroom into Freddie's room (he was out with Sam).

I turned off the light and slid my foot over the smooth carpet, looking over at Freddie's side of the room—how neat it was.

How messy my side was. Magazines and assignments spread everywhere; bed unmade ... not that I really cared.

Then Mrs. Benson appeared in the doorway. "Carly?" she asked. At first I thought four things.

a) Why was Mrs. Benson in my room (that was shared with her son)?

b) Was it about my messy side?

c) Was someone finally caring about the vase (not finally, finally ... but noticing after a while).

d) Did she not realize I was _in a towel_??

"Carly..." she repeated. Her apron (I know, an apron) was messy with brown stuff (chocolate or...) and redness (blood or coloring?).

"Mrs. Benson," I said. It was really awkward, and the fact that I wasn't dressed didn't help at all. It didn't seem to stop her, though.

"Carly," she said, "have you shampooed?"

What? I looked at her for a moment like she was crazy. "Carly," she said. "Don't look at me like that." I continued staring, only blinking. "You have to sign the contract ... saying you washed twice."

I wanted to say, _Okay, I'm living in your house for no apparent reason because you dragged me here. I'm sharing a room with FREDDIE. I eat your disgusting food (well, sort of) and don't complain. I will NOT—will NOT—sign that stupid contract, Mrs. BENSON. Ugh!_ And stomped away dramatically.

What I really said was, "Okay."

***

I was sweating all day, murmuring to myself about Spencer. Sam asked what was wrong, and that wasn't right because a) Sam doesn't care, b) Sam doesn't notice stuff like that c) EVEN SAM NOTICED, and d) she was extra distracted with _Freddie_.

When I walked into the hospital a lot of the nurses waved and said, "Hi, Carly," and it's never good when people at the hospital see you and know you by name.

The clean corridors that were scattered with gurneys were never a happy site as all the sick and dying patients strolled by (on gurneys or wheelchairs) greeting me and smiling. All I could think was that I wouldn't be so happy if I were dying.

The worst part was walking by the Children's Cancer Center (CCC). The CCC playroom was open, with kids playing who were attached to tubes and/or had lost all their hair because of chemo. No matter how big their smiles were, it would never lose the gray feeling of sickness mixed with childhood over the place. I hated walking by the CCC—but I had to get to where I was going.

The scariest part—scarier than the CCC—was that I didn't even know what was wrong with Spencer. He wouldn't tell me.

"Hi," I said as I walked straight into Dr. Zee's office. I stood confidently, although I was nowhere near confident.

Everything was new and shiny—even Dr. Zee.

"Hello, Carly," he said.

"Th—" I began, but Dr. Zee cut me off.

"All went accordingly."

"Is that good?" I asked, and I was sure the assistant sitting in the corner had the same question.

"It means all went according to plan, or what happened was exactly what was supposed to happen. The second," said Dr. Zee. "Everything happened the way I predicted. Well, you know what was supposed to happen. We thought Spencer was going to die."

He thought for a second. "I'm a good predictor ... right, in this case."

**All right, maybe this chapter wasn't great … but something REALLY important is coming up!!**

**I know you think you know what happened to Spencer—but you really don't!! If you guess right, I'll send the next chapter.**

**You are wrong (say to yourself in hypnotizing voice)**

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	6. iAm a Bad Person

**I'm sorry for not sending it out earlier … explanation at end.**

**-Bella **

I set my books into my locker and flipped the locker door closed. The locker caught the light and reflected Freddie's face looking across the hallway. His hair was combed—not really surprising—and he smelled different. Had his mother ordered a new dandruff shampoo??

No, I would've known by now—the lady isn't exactly _private_ (the bathroom incident).

I immediately turned around—Freddie wasn't really one who smiles all the time—only to see the locker next to me being opened as long, blonde curls fell over an English textbook.

ADVERBS, NOUNS, VERBS, AND MOST OT—the rest of the title was cut off as my locker swung open, and as I felt pressure on my back and pain in my arms.

"Uh," I groaned as I tried to right myself again. I was too shocked to look behind or scream in pain.

Laughter. I heard laughter next to me as Freddie stood behind me, ready to open my mouth and mutter under my breath, "never going to happen...." But he was laughing with Sam, my arm hurting from in front of his own.

He laughed after he'd physically damaged me.

It was a lot of pressure—he didn't just not notice it. He understood what he had done, and he wasn't sorry.

***

I grabbed the speaker, ready to announce it to the world....

_--Flashback--_

_I was sitting a table, all alone before Sam had noticed me and tried to steal my sandwich ... no, this was before I even knew Sam. _

"_Carly," whispered a voice from behind me. I didn't even turn to see who it was before answering, _

"_Freddie." My hand flew to my mouth after I muttered, quietly, "Hi." I wasn't supposed to talk to Freddie because his mother thought I was "dangerous" and "irresponsible" and "a total never-going-to-happen". As if. _

_He sat at my table, closed his eyes, and began to mutter, "Carly, will you—" He was wearing a red tee shirt with a dinosaur on it, and it was lunchtime. He knew he wasn't supposed to talk to me, but he couldn't stay away for long...._

_He looked at my face. He knew it was never going to happen—and even it could have, his mother was against everything I did or thought or said._

"_So," he said instead, "Do you want to know a secret?" I smiled and said sure, even though Freddie's secrets were never too exciting. "Okay. I was born a girl." I gasped before answering. _

"_Cool," I said. I wondered if this was true—Freddie didn't look like a girl at all—and anybody could see he was obsessed with me in _every_ way._

_He wasn't a she—he was a he and that he's name was Freddie—it was Freddie the he and not Freddie the she. (Besides, exciting and interesting things do NOT happen to people named Fredward Benson—never.)_

"_Okay," he said, "Just don't tell anyone. I don't want just everybody to know." Of course—just the thing you'd say if what you were saying WEREN'T true!_

_Of course—just the thing you'd say if what you were saying WERE true._

"_I won't, Freddie." I was smiling—who would ever care? I wasn't going to tell anyone anyway. It was against anything anyone (besides Spencer) had ever told me._

_Suddenly, the new girl walked over. I'd heard she made Germy cry so hard he had to move to Alabama to hide from the shame. _

_Did I really believe what Melanie Heffman said, though?? She also said Freddie was born with three noses, and I do NOT think that you could be born with three noses and have them removed without so much as a scar._

_Freddie sprung into action. "I'll protect you, Carly!" said Freddie. I bit my lip to keep from laughing—I knew that one day Freddie would be my night in shining armor. (Or so I hoped.) _

_It just wouldn't be for a really long time. _

_Freddie was no good at protecting me—he scampered away as the new girl sat right next to me. _

_Her hand went for my sandwich, and I grabbed it back. "Hey," she said. "You're all right. I'm Sam Puckett." _

_--End of Flashback--_

Could I really do this to Freddie? I couldn't do this—but I needed to. There was no other time I had the microphone for all the speakers at my fingertips.

He'd been a lifelong friend and ... could I hurt him like this? Was my heart _really_ that cold?

Was I really ready for whatever response would come after I shattered his/her life to pieces? What would his "friends" think? Was it even true—or had he just said it to look important or have something secretive to tell me??

It was probably all a lie. What kind of boy said they were really a girl, anyway?

Freddie Benson.

**Well, I hope you liked it!! Anyway … you know when I said that I would send you the next chapter those who reviewed correctly?? Well, we had … technical difficulties. I decided people had already waited too long and so, here it is!! **

**I'm really, really, sorry (even if this stupid computer isn't)**


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